Life Victorious
by PBContessa
Summary: Alternate version of S5. Syney and Vaughn are reunited, but they face the toughest decision of their lives.They cheated death out of two souls that day.
1. Chapter 1: Death

Title: Life Victorious  
Summary: They cheated death out of two souls that day  
Author: BristowBoyScout545 or Tess  
Timeline: Post S5  
Genre: angst, but happy if that makes any sense  
Disclaimer: I don't own Alias, but if I did, do you honestly think Vaughn would have "died"?

Life Victorious  
The Beginning  
Prologue"It wasn't your fault." he whispered to the small child he held in his arms. And it wasn't. He didn't blame her for what had happened.

Part I  
Seven months. He had been "dead" for seven months. They had been apart for seven months. They had cried, screamed, longed for each other for seven months. And for seven months they had been fighting the enemy that threatened their existence. And, after seven months, they had been reunited.

She watched the building burning to the ground. This was the last remaining headquarters of Prophet Five. It was over. Then she saw him, standing in the shadows, the flickering flames illuminating his face with eerie light. She stood, transfixed by the sight of the man she had loved and lost. Then something clicked. It had been too easy to take down the organization. He had been helping them all along.

"Vaughn." she called, and he turned. She saw her name form on his lips and escape into the cool night air. He ran to her, feeling as if he was floating through a dream. It was over.

"But how?" he felt her whisper as he took her in his arms, receiving a joyous kick form their child whose presence among them was far more evident than it had been when they parted.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I had to leave you. But they would have hurt you; they would have hurt you both."

"Its over."

Part II  
Six days. They had been together for six days. Just the three of them back home for six days. They had bliss for six days. And for six days, he was able to get to know his child, talk to her, sing to her, and pat her affectionately by way of his fiancé's stomach. And, after six days, things went terribly wrong.

She lay in the hospital bed, weak and confused. What had happened? What if something was wrong with the baby? Her hand traveled to her raised stomach, and she felt the baby move, but the movement was erratic and panicked. Then she saw him enter the room, worry etched onto those perfect features.

"Vaughn." she whispered, fear creeping up her throat and strangling her voice. He let out her name, more of a sigh than anything else. He knelt beside her bed, reaching over the slick metal railing to grasp her hand in both of his.

They had two choices. They could give her medication to delay the premature labor, which could put their child at risk, or she could deliver now, an action that would be fatal to her. She recalled her father's voice as he taught her to play chess. _"The Queen sacrifice, Sydney. You offer up the Queen, and your opponent will think they've won. But in reality, Sydney, you are the victor, for you have foreseen something your foe has overlooked. Your sacrifice has put you in perfect position to claim victory."_

"You know what we have to do." She saw the anguish behind his eyes turn them a darker shade of emerald, and she saw something inside of him die. For years they had cheated death, her as Julia Thorne, him as Michael Vaughn. This was it, the final test. By willingly giving in to death, they would triumph. For their enemy saw only consumption of a soul, its blind, blackened eyes not seeing through the pain it would cause to the salvation they would gain through her actions. The only way to beat death was this surrender.

Part III  
Five hours. She had been in labor for five hours. He had held her hand tightly for five hours. She struggled to bring their child to life for five hours. And for five hours, she had screamed and cried with the pain. And, after five hours, Isabelle Bristow Vaughn was born.

"Vaughn." she said softly as her child was taken from the room and into emergency care. Her name escaped him, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"I'm sorry. But this is the only way." He knew there was nothing else he could do, but he clung to her, wanting to forfeit now. His will was cracking; he wanted to quit this game. But she stayed strong, the end was near and soon, soon this would be finished.

"We did it. We won." He kissed her gently, one last time. There was so much he needed to say, but there was no time. This kiss would have to suffice.

"I love you." She exhaled her last breath against his lips, and slipped away.

Part IV  
Four weeks. Isabelle had been in intensive care for four weeks. She had fought for life for four weeks. She had been kept alive by machines for four weeks. And for four weeks, her father had cried and screamed and prayed that her mother's sacrifice had not been in vain. And, after four weeks, she proved him right, emerging five whole pounds, two and a half more than she had been born.  
"Sydney." he whispered fondly, sitting in their apartment, photographs lining the walls.

"It wasn't your fault." he whispered to the small child he held in his arms. And it wasn't. He didn't blame her for what had happened.

He missed her everyday, but he found solace in their victory. They had cheated death out two souls that day. Because Sydney Bristow wasn't dead. No, she lived on, her presence evident in her daughter's big brown eyes, her own mirrored back at him. She was marked with her mother's sacrifice, two souls now cohabitating in one being. He tickled her cheek gently with one finger, and he heard his daughter's laughter for the first time. He waited, and then it came. Sydney's laughter echoed only moments later, the sound filling the room and his heart. He recalled her last words.

"We did it. We won." And they had.

Fin  
Click here to read The End  
Reviews please!  
Edited because i can't count...


	2. Chapter 2: Life

Life Victorious  
The End  
Prologue   
"You look beautiful." This was the first time her had seen today, as he had been shooed away by her aunt and his mother as they prepared her. This was his little girl, his precious child, and she would leave him today. "I know your mother is so proud of you." he whispered.

Part I   
Seven years. It had been seven years since the passing of Sydney Bristow. Isabelle Bristow Vaughn had grown into a little girl during those seven years under the tender care of her father, aunt, uncle, and grandfather. She had grown to be more and more like her mother during those seven years. And for seven years, she had cherished the photographs and mementos of the woman who had given her life, but had never truly _known _her, although her spirit lingered within the girl's smile. And, after seven years, she once again would beg for more; stories, memories, anything to tie her to this extraordinary figure, so close, yet so distant.

It wasn't that Sydney Bristow had been forgotten, no, far from it. But whenever her father spoke of her, he would break off, lost in memories.

"Oh no, Da Da!" the little girl cried in despair.

"What is it, Princess?" Vaughn asked, tucking the pink comforter around his daughter.

"Wudge is gone!" She held up her empty palms to show him that they were in fact, devoid of Wudge. He tucked a strand of slightly curly, caramel colored hair behind her ear before saying, "Well then I'll just have to find Wudge."

He stood to search the rosy room, checking first in the wooden toy chest beside her chest of drawers, then in her closet, searching behind the flowered white door only to be disappointed. Then, he knelt beside her bed and lifted the soft linen to peer beneath the maze of dusty springs.

"There he is." he announced triumphantly. 'He' was a faded yellow plush elephant, a gift from her grandfather the day she left the hospital. Vaughn had yet to discover the origin of his peculiar title.

He returned to his daughter's side, and placed a kiss to her forehead as she wrapped the toy in one arm at patted its ears affectionately with the other, murmuring, "Oh, Wudgie, Wudgie, Wudgie." Then her hand shifted instead to fasten in a tiny fist around the pendant that hung around her neck. The necklace had a gold chain from which hung a tiny angel made of light pink crystal, one of her mother's possessions that she had been given. It had been a present to Sydney from Vaughn, presented to her shortly after their reunion at the site of the Prophet Five's destruction. Now it belonged to Isabelle: her father had been her mother's guardian angel, and now she was her daughter's.

"Tell me about Mommy." she said softly, looking into her father's eyes. A faraway look came over his face, and he spoke in a tone only used when he spoke about the woman he loved.

"Sydney." he breathed, the sound of her name causing his heart to sing.

"She was beautiful, just like you." It always started this way, with him affirming the resemblance.

"Her favorite food was-"

"Peanut Butter!" she cheered, finishing his sentence.

"Just like me." she stated proudly.

"Just like you. She would sit on the couch with a spoon and a jar, and would eat the entire thing without gaining a pound." His was smiling, but it was a distant smile, as if it belonged in another time. Isabelle, sensing his departure, whispered, "You miss her, don't you, Daddy."

His smile faded completely, as if it had given up and rejoined his past.

"Every moment of every day." he answered quietly.

Then, he stood and kissed her gently on the cheek, a gesture which she returned.  
"Bonne nuit, ma princesse. Je t'aime." He turned of her lights, casting moonlit shadows dancing across the carpet.  
"Bonne nuit, Papa. Je t'aime aussi."  
Part II  
Six years. Isabelle had grown to be a happy, healthy, and as of last Friday, teenage girl. Somewhere during those six years, Wudge became placed at the foot of the bed instead tucked in beside her sleeping form. In six years, she had gone from a little girl with pigtails, to a tall, well built athlete. And for six years, he father had been present at every game, supporting his child with praise and encouragement. And, after six years, proof of her maternal heritage was beginning to show more than ever.  
The ice sprayed in sheets as the jagged silver blades reduced it to mush, tearing through the slick surface with fierce determination. Isabelle raised her weapon, preparing to attack her round black prey, when a green clad girl approached form behind, slamming the curved end of her wooden stick into Isabelle's shoulder. The impact caused her to tumble onto the cold, hard ice, her helmet flying off to spin on the spot a few feet away from her. The referee, however, was preoccupied with the scores men, and did not blow the whistle.  
"C'mon ref! Pay attention to the game!" Vaughn roared angrily, rising from his seat. His daughter too showed her indignation as her attacker slid the puck down towards the goal. Then Isabelle bolted from her spot, abandoning both her helmet and stick in angry pursuit. Her skates cut furious gashes into the ice, and her rage propelled her faster than she had ever skated. She drew level with her target, and then slammed her aggressively against then side of the rink.  
Vaughn watched, trying not to show pride on his face as the referee sent his daughter to the penalty box.  
"Sydney." he laughed. That was a Bristow temper, to be sure. That same indignation at any sign of injustice, and an acute will to make things "fair". She was her mother's daughter.  
Part III   
Five years. In five years, she had become an elegant young woman. In five years, she had gone from braces to boyfriends. During those five years, Vaughn had been forced to come to grips with the fact that his little girl was growing up. And for five years, he had been stubbornly trying to ignore that fact. And, after five years, he finally accepted it.  
He stood to greet her, her navy robe billowing in the light breeze, her cap askew, diploma clutched tightly in her right hand. He pulled her into a warm embrace, whispering his congratulations. He stepped back to look at her fully. Her light brown hair brushed gently down her back, her guardian angel pendant resting near the base of her neck. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, her dimples showing as she beamed.  
"Now, what's that secret plan of yours than I wasn't allowed to know until today?" he asked, his curiosity peaking. She smiled gently before telling him, "I've got a full scholarship to UCLA. I…I want to teach English."  
She saw the light in his eyes flicker for a moment, and then he stared at her in disbelief.  
"Sydney." Her name slipped easily from his lips, entering the air with a sacred hush.  
No one had ever told Isabelle of her mother's lifelong dream.  
Part IV   
Four years. Four years had passed since her graduation, and Isabelle was now a woman. In those fours years, she had studied at the Los Angeles campus that her mother had attended. During those four years, she had always visited her father as frequently as she could, knowing of his loneliness, for _she _missed _him _greatly. And for fours years she had searched for something that her mother had found while in school: love. And, after four years, she had found it.  
"You look beautiful." This was the first time her had seen today, as he had been shooed away by her aunt and his mother as they prepared her. This was his little girl, his precious child, and she would leave him today. Her hair had been curled and pulled up in almost the same way her mother's had been on that trip to Santa Barbara. Her brown eyes gleamed with happiness, and her dimples showed as she offered him a smile. Him, the man who had nurtured her, cared for her, lost the woman he loved for her, and now, she would leave him.  
"I'm taking both names." she told him as she adjusted the pink pendant around her neck.  
"Vaughn." She whispered the surname, her tone almost matching her mother's.  
"That's what she used to call you, isn't it?" she inquired, inadvertently telling him the second reason she wasn't dropping the title. He nodded slowly.  
"I know your mother is so proud of you." he whispered, taking her hand in both of his. He saw tears fill those copper eyes and start to fall down her cheeks, but her caught them and dried them with a soft brush of his finger.

"I…I just wish she could be here." More tears fell and were wiped away. This day was a symbol of their twenty-two year victory, to be able to celebrate this day was a tribute to Sydney. Then he saw her necklace, the angel sparkling in the soft light.

"She is."  
Fin


End file.
